Insurrectionists
by Lightningwolf325
Summary: Seven children, seven less than ideal families. When Liam Potter is declared the BWL, his brother makes a wish. With their leader, the self-dubbed Emrys, they proceed to shake the wizarding world to its core-because every revolution starts out small.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer**: Belong to me, Harry Potter does not. Talk like Yoda I am trying. But there is no try. And no, I don't own Star Wars either…and for the record, it's completely irrelevant.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Change<strong>__: n. a transformation or modification; alteration_

"_Avada Kedavra!"_

These words seemed to echo, filling the night with a sinister ring. The world slowed down as the ethereal green light flashed toward the youngest of the two boys in the crib, creating a sickly colour as it sparkled against his auburn hair.

_The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches…_

Words that had summoned the dark side of Death himself to the small cottage in Wales, resonating through the cold autumn air.

_Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies…_

It was only logical that the prophecy child would be the youngest; born on the very tail end of the final day of July…unless a recording error had been made…

"_Wait…wait…now—PUSH!"_

_The auburn-haired woman screamed, clutching her husband's hand like a lifeline. The man winced at her grip but put on a brave face, offering her comfort._

"_Don't worry, Lils, it's almost over…just push, he's almost out," he tried to soothe._

"_Perhaps you're forgetting, _James_, that there—are—two…" she trailed off through gritted teeth as another contraction came._

"_I know, Lily. But you're doing great."_

"_ARGH!" The woman gave one final push and the rest of the child followed its head out. It had black fuzz covering its head and when it blinked, pale green eyes stared out into the world for the first time._

"_It's a boy!" the nurse cried. "Congratulations, Lord Potter, you have an heir."_

"_That's convenient, but I'm happier that I'm finally a father," James said with a forced smile. The nurse was a pureblood, one of the old families who hadn't completely given up their old ways, and had been grating on his nerves from the moment he had arrived with his wife. She grunted neutrally and marked down the time of birth._

_The next child came, fraternal twin of the first, just after the clock stroke midnight. He had auburn hair, much like his mother's, with green eyes that matched hers as well. In an act of carelessness that would eventually come to tear a family apart, the nurse marked down July 31__st__ as the child's birthday…_

The elder, black-haired twin stared in fear as the stranger raised his wand and shot a spell at his brother. In a moment of pure instinct he moved toward his twin, pushing the younger boy down and turning to face the entrancing light.

"_To Harry James and Liam Remus Potter!" cried the proud father, raising his glass. The rest of the Order followed, laughing heartily as they celebrated one of the only bright things that had happened in those dark times. A dark-haired man sitting next to him pouted._

"_Why didn't you name one after me?" he whined, much to the amusement of the group._

"_C'mon, Padfoot, you're already their godfather. Besides, Lily didn't want to inflate your head anymore than it already is. Said she wasn't gonna fix your shirts when the neck hole stretches out too much."_

"_Ha ha," Sirius looked dejected, then brightened. "When can I come over and see them? As godfather it is my duty to corrupt them in ways that you are unable to as your wife would make you sleep on the couch."_

_James stuck his tongue out. "Tomorrow, I think. Lily wants to teach you how to feed them and change their diapers."_

_Sirius wrinkled his nose, disgusted. "On the other hand…"_

"_Not in a million years, Pads. It is your duty as godfather to be able to take care of them, after all," James laughed…_

The curse sped forward, hitting the elder twin right in the forehead. Rather than dropping dead, however, the child seemed to absorb the hostile energy. He collapsed, convulsing as his body tried to rid itself of the foreign magic. His brother was crying, crocodile tears running down his blotchy face as he watched Harry writhing in pain. The man, once over his shock at the sable-haired boy's reaction to the Killing Curse, raised his wand again.

However, before his tongue could even begin to form the words that he had spoken more than a million times a bright light radiated from the older child. It had no colour, apart from the green tendrils that were slowly creeping from the boy's very pores. In a clap of thunder they were released, ricocheting back toward the man.

He dropped, body hitting the floor with a dull thud that somehow managed to break through Liam's crying. It was accompanied by a crash as the ceiling caved in, weakened by the explosion of magic. A stray piece of shrapnel flew over by the twins, hitting Liam's left shoulder, somehow carving an X and landing in a small puddle of blood that was gathering by Harry's head, coming from the lightning mark on the boy…

James stiffened as he felt a tingle run down his spine. It wasn't a normal tingle, either—not from relaxation, or even malaise. It was a tingle that was laced with magic; the magic of the wards around his Godric's Hollow home breaking down.

"James, what is it?" his wife asked from his side as Dumbledore spoke. They were at an Order meeting, the first the pair had been able to attend in over a year. Sirius and Remus looked over at their friend, concerned. The fourth Marauder, Peter Pettigrew, was conspicuous in his absence. James internally cursed at the traitor.

"Lily, stay here," he returned. "The wards at Godric's Hollow have been breached!" he raised his voice, interrupting the Headmaster. An uproar followed his words.

Three bangs came from the end of Dumbledore's wand. Lily was staring, wide-eyed and ashen-faced, at James. "James, Remus, Alastor, Minerva, and I will go to Godric's Hollow. Too many of us will cause too much damage. The rest of you will remain here and await further instructions. If we need backup one of us shall send a patronus."

"What about me?" Sirius asked, angrily. He flinched back as Dumbledore's icy gaze turned to him.

"The secret to their whereabouts was given away. To my knowledge, you were chosen as the Potter's Secret Keeper."

"Sirius was a decoy, it was actually Pettigrew," James spat the name. "Padfoot's coming too, we need him. Now can we get going? I need to get to my sons!"

Dumbledore blinked, but accepted James' explanation. "Very well. Alice, if you could keep Lily—"

"Of course, Headmaster," Alice Longbottom was already at her friend's side, restraining her. "C'mon, Lils, you aren't in any state to help," she murmured. James looked on sadly before leaving with the rest.

When the group got to the house, it was in ruins. Fortunately, the muggle-repelling charms had held and no emergency services were at the scene. James, Sirius, and Remus ran forward, followed quickly by the rest of their group. Dumbledore held them back.

"Not so quickly," he muttered. "_Homenum Revelio," _he incanted, and a shadow swooped down. "The twins are in their nursery. No one else is here."

"What about Bathilda?" Alastor asked, bringing up the babysitter the Potters had watching their children while they attended the meeting.

"Here!" Minerva called, shifting some wood with her wand. "Oh dear," she said softly. "She was dead long before the house collapsed."

James rushed up the now rickety stairs with Remus and Sirius on his heels. As he drew closer he heard crying. _Liam,_ he thought desperately. He could tell the difference between his children's cries. But what about Harry?

He burst into the room. He saw Liam in the crib, face red and stained with tears. Below him was Harry, laying on the mattress, forehead cut open and bleeding. James rushed forward, scooping his elder son into his arms and conjuring a bandage around his head. Liam reached out his arms and was picked up by his godfather who cradled him to his chest in a rare show of somberness, copying James and bandaging his younger godson's shoulder.

Content that his cubs were alright, for the moment, Remus sent a quick scan around the room. His eyes fell on a piece of cloak trapped under a bit of wood from the ceiling. It was quite obviously not of the same material that the Potters usually had robes made of. He began to shift away the debris.

Alastor, and Minerva arrived and helped him as Dumbledore inspected the twins. Father, godfather, and headmaster all turned as Minerva let out a gasp.

Laying there, covered in debris, was the Dark Lord—Voldemort.

Handing the newly-healed Harry and Liam to James who immediately drew his son to his chest as if trying to shield him forever from the horrors of the world, Dumbledore stepped forward, wand raised.

"He is dead," the old man spoke. "His body, at the very least."

"And what would that mean?" Alastor asked in his usual paranoid fashion.

"I believe his spirit fled; he will be back, but for now we can celebrate."

"But how did it happen?" Remus asked hoarsely. "Bathilda was dead downstairs, and his body is here; as far as we know, only the twins were up here."

"I examined the twins," Dumbledore admitted. "Have either of them ever had their magic tested?"

James shook his head. "We wanted to wait and let it develop on its own. If either of them showed any problems with it we would take them in, but until then we thought it best to let them be."

Dumbledore nodded thoughtfully. "I checked their cores; Liam's is as strong as it should be for a fifteen-month-old. Harry's, on the other hand, is very weak."

"Could that have something to do with the attack?" James asked anxiously. Dumbledore shook his head in the negative.

"No infant could have caused this," he said grimly. They stood in silence.

"So…did either of the twins…?" Sirius trailed off, uncertain. Dumbledore sighed.

"I also looked at their scars. What with the explosion it was impossible to get any magical residue off of them," when everyone looked disappointed, he continued quickly, "but next to young Harry's head there was a single piece of shrapnel coated in his blood. It was the only projectile to break through the protective charms on the crib. The scar Liam has is known as _gebo_ in the Elder Futhark. It means gift."

"But isn't the scar on Harry's forehead _sowilo_? Sun?" Remus argued. He didn't even know why he was contradicting the headmaster; he was simply too shocked.

"Were the top line pointing out toward the right on his head, then yes. However, it is pointing toward the left; I pray it was simply a coincidence, and not a sign for the future."

"Are you saying my son will turn?" James asked, face white.

"I do not know what to think, James," Dumbledore said wearily. "But for now…" he grabbed Liam and held him up. "May I present to you Liam Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived!"

And later that night, when both boys were in bed with their parents asleep in the same room, Harry opened his eyes to reveal the same unearthly green of the curse that changed his life forever.

The news spread like wildfire. No one listened to the speculations of Albus Dumbledore—they were simply too ecstatic at the apparent defeat of He Who Must Not Be Named to think of his—possibly imminent—return. Liam Potter was hailed as a hero, and very few knew that he had a twin.

Warnings to watch protect their youngest and watch their eldest for signs of darkness ringing in their ears, the Potters moved into Potter Manor, the place James had been avoiding since his parent's deaths. However, the safety of his family was far more important to him than any ghosts of the past—no matter how painful—so they settled in and tried to live as normally as possible.

Not that it was very possible.

Dumbledore…hovered. He claimed it was so that he could keep an extra eye on the twins, in case anything were to come up, and by all means James believed him. Lily did as well, otherwise the old man would have been on the receiving end of some rather nasty curses.

Shortly after the Potter family had moved to their manor, the Longbottoms were attacked. Frank and Alice were tortured to the point of insanity by Bellatrix, Rodolphus, and Rabastan Lestrange along with Barty Crouch, Jr. Their son, a day older than the Potter twins (or so it was assumed) was sent to live with his grandmother. The Potters soon lost contact with the remaining Longbottoms.

As the boys grew, it was harder and harder to keep them in the manor. There were occasions when the parents were forced to take them to Diagon Alley and the like, and every time the place was swarming with reporters trying to get a glimpse of the Boy-Who-Lived.

On the twin's third birthday, Dumbledore visited the Potters bearing grim news.

"I have been on the lookout for Voldemort," he explained quietly as the boys played together. "I am not sure where exactly he is, but I have found proof that he is alive."

Lily and James had gone pale. "What can we do?" Lily asked. "I'm not going to allow him to hurt my children again."

"I wish to give Liam an early education in magic," Dumbledore said slowly.

"What about Harry?" James asked immediately. Ever since the attack he and Lily had done their best to make sure the boys received the same privileges and amount of attention.

"I'm afraid that he would prove to be too much of a distraction for Liam," the headmaster replied. "Has he performed any accidental magic?"

"Not that we know of," Lily admitted. "It's always Liam. But he could just be a late bloomer, couldn't he?" Dumbledore shook his head sadly.

"Not if that core evaluation is anything to go by. He'll never be as powerful as his brother."

"But won't he get jealous?" James asked. "There has to be something else we can do. Besides, I don't want to give up Liam's childhood just because Voldemort wants to kill him."

"We need to start his training as early as possible," Dumbledore argued. "At the age of three he should be able to learn quite a bit about magical control. And Harry would only get in the way."

"But—"

"Don't you want your son to be prepared? Harry will be fine; just focus on helping Liam survive. It's for the good of the wizarding world."

So Liam's training began. Harry, with his insatiable thirst for knowledge, _had_ been quite jealous of his brother. So Lily began to teach him how to read and charmed some books to read to him, so he spent countless hours roaming the Potter library. James would take the boys out flying for some father-son time and they were a more or less normal family. But that was disregarding the Ministry functions.

It was an important political move for the Light side to have the Potters attend these functions, especially with Liam's status. It was also suggested that Harry, as the Potter heir, should attend as well.

However, the family quickly found that three-year-old Harry didn't react well to crowds. They were forced to leave him at home, further estranging him from the already misinformed magic community. The twins' birthday had also turned into a social event, so Harry was left alone in his room while the birthday ball was in session.

This pattern continued, and by the time Harry was five he had been more-or-less worked out of his family's schedule. They still greeted him with enthusiastic hugs when they happened upon each other while walking through the manor, but Harry's discomfort around crowds had only grown in the time he spent alone and he preferred to forego the trips to Diagon Alley and the like. He began to doubt his parents' love for him—both paid so much attention to Liam in the fear that they wouldn't have much time left that they pushed their eldest even farther away than he had pulled. One day, his doubts cemented into certainty and everything changed.

Lily and James were stressed. Liam had been misbehaving that morning and Dumbledore had Floo-called and told them that Voldemort's spirit had moved closer to Britain. On top of that Liam had been having trouble in his lessons which were supposed to help him protect himself against Voldemort.

Harry had come down to dinner, a rare occurrence for the boy who usually took meals in his room. He was proud to say that he could stumble through a book now and the charms his mother had placed on them were becoming less needed. He was also finding it easier and easier to control the random bursts of magic that had been happening—not that his parents knew about them. He had asked many times if he could join Liam's special lessons and each time he had been denied. He decided that he would tell his parents of his newly found power and see if he could join the lessons—then, maybe, he could be loved just as much as Liam.

It was in the middle of the meal and Liam, upset with his tooth being loose despite the promises of a visit from the Tooth Fairy when it came out, threw a fit over some food that was too hard for him to chew. Harry, seeing that his parents were stretched to the breaking point, decided to proceed cautiously.

"Mum? Dad?" he asked quietly. James and Lily jumped, having forgotten that they weren't alone after Liam had gone upstairs.

"Yes, Harry?" James asked, trying to keep the tension out of his voice.

"Can I join Liam's lessons? I can read really well now, and I've been practicing—"

"No!" James snapped. Harry froze, never having heard his father use that tone. "Liam doesn't need you distracting him. You aren't powerful enough and you'll just hold him back!" Tears welled up in Harry's eyes. Lily elbowed her husband and he seemed to realize what he had just said. "Oh, gosh Harry, I'm sorry."

"So I'm just not good enough?" the boy asked, voice shaking.

"No, Harry, I didn't mean that—"

"That's what you said!" he yelled, jumping up from his chair. "That's what you've always thought! Liam's better than I am, isn't he?"

"Harry, sweetheart—"

"No! You never even say goodnight to me anymore! You're always with Liam! Why aren't I good enough?"

Harry ran, sprinting to his room and ignoring the calls from his parents. He sunk down against his wall, drawing his knees up to his chest and allowing a few tears to escape. He just wanted his mum and dad to love him as much as they did his brother. Sirius and Remus were great, but they weren't his parents and they were often busy nowadays.

Bad memories began to float to the surface of his mind—more proof that his parents didn't love him. At least, not as much as his brother.

Whenever they had to take Liam on a trip where there were a lot of people he was allowed to stay behind. A few times, though, they had been unable to find someone to watch him and he was left with Vernon and Petunia Dursley. From what he had been able to gather Petunia was his mother's sister who his mother had lost contact with a while ago. It had been Dumbledore who suggested that the Dursleys would be able to take him for a few days. After much debating, Harry was packed and dropped off with the Dursley family.

The few times he had been sent there had been hell for the child. The only houseroom he had been given was a small space in the cupboard under the stairs. He had been treated like a house elf, learning to cook and clean the muggle way. Any magic was punished—along with any infraction, no matter how small or imagined it was. Vernon enjoyed using him as a punch-bag and taught his wale of a son how to do it too. They never left bruises anywhere visible and Harry, ears ringing with death threats from his uncle, never told anyone.

Harry looked out the window at the quickly darkening sky. He desperately wanted to be able to leave, to go to a place where he would always be loved, and never have to be worried about being sent to a place he would be hurt. A single star twinkled into view. He remembered a rhyme Remus had taught him when he was really little.

"Star light, star bright,

First star I see tonight,

I wish I may, I wish I might,

Have this wish I wish tonight."

He finished the rhyme and closed his vert eyes, wishing for the thing he wanted and believed he could never have. He opened them, shoulders squared in the innocent hope that his wish had been granted. Finding himself still in his room his shoulders dropped in disappointment. He sighed and crawled into bed.

"Goodnight, Harry," he mumbled to himself, curling under the covers as he clutched his black dog plushy to his chest, tears running down his cheeks. In the distance, the single star winked out of sight.

* * *

><p><strong>AN**: So yes, I am trying my hand at my own version of the "Harry's twin is the wrong BWL" plot. I know that it has been used ad nauseum, but I want to see if I can put my own twist on it. But first, let me clear up a few things.

While the Potters aren't completely bad in this, neither are they the model parents. Plenty of good people have been corrupted by fame and the stress that comes with it. Liam won't be a _bad_kid, but he will slightly resemble James—the James we know from OotP. This is only normal—often times kids are only as good as they're raised to be. Many manage to break the cycle, but an arrogant-but-well-intentioned Liam will add what I need to the plot.

Likewise, Dumbledore won't be perfect, nor will he be "bad". He means well, but often displays this in a less-than-satisfactory way for most involved. He focuses more on the big picture, the "greater good", as opposed to the individual lives that could be ruined as a result of his schemes. Hagrid was right—he is a good man. But he's a _man_. He's only human, and human perfection can only be described as imperfection.

Please review, but no flames!


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer**: I don't own Harry Potter.

**Stuff**: So, this introduces the other six in the little group. They'll meet next chapter. It just kind of explains why they're looking for more, and tells you a little about them. It's a short chapter, but it's kind of important. So yeah, read and review! No flames, please.

**Pairings**: Oh yeah, nearly forgot! Um, so it won't be completely canon, because, well, Harry and Ginny are growing up as brother and sister! Plus their personalities will all be kinda different, what with the different upbringings. So! Without the names that they change later in the story (aka, next chapter) Harry/Daphne Greengrass, Ginny/Liam Potter, Neville/Hannah Abbot (yeah, that one's canon), Blaise/Susan Bones. Any suggestions for Luna, Draco, and Hermione? No slash pairings, please, I really don't think I could write that. And don't anybody _dare_ put Draco with Pansy Parkinson—I _do not_ like her, and remember that she isn't one of the ones with the change in upbringing! Um, so, yeah. Don't pair any of them with each other, either (cuz they're raised like siblings). And if you want to wait until you see how their personalities develop, that's fine too. Thanks!

* * *

><p><em><strong>Freedom<strong>__: n. __philosophy__ the power to exercise choice and make decisions without constraint from within or without._

Blaise Zabini lay curled up in his covers, staring at the ceiling. For most five-year-olds this apathy would be worrying, but for young Blaise it was completely understandable. His room was in boxes, packed up for the impending move. His mother was busy with no time in her schedule for her son. But worst of all, in Blaise's opinion, his father was dead.

He knew his mother had something to do with it—he just wasn't sure what. There was just something about the smirk that came over her face when letters from the bank arrived to sort out his father's estate—it just wasn't natural. He sighed.

For all intents and purposes, his world had ended the moment the news of his father's death had reached his ears. His dad had been his hero, the one person he could be completely safe with. Even his own mother didn't make that list.

The young boy sat up and, casting a speculative glance out his window, made a split-second decision. His mother was out on a meeting with the bank and hadn't seen fit to hire a sitter for her only son. As such, he was alone. And alone, he was free.

He opened the window and climbed out, tentatively placing a foot on the grass outside. When nothing happened he allowed the rest of his body to follow, sliding out and landing with a lithe childlike gracefulness. He stilled as though expecting some sort of explosion to happen at his show of defiance, but still the world was quiet. So he ran…

**. . .**

_**Liberty**__: n. freedom from captivity, confinement, or physical restraint._

Draco Malfoy winced as he lay in his luxurious bed. In the muggle-world, the four-poster would be considered king-sized, with a green comforter and matching hangings. Silver snakes adorned the curtain rod, wrapping around it in a caduceus-like fashion. But none of this meant anything to the boy, currently suffering from the after-effects of a terrible curse.

The Cruciatus Curse had been a favourite of his aunt's, not that he would know, but it was the first time his father had used it on him. Draco wasn't even entirely sure what he had done wrong—he had simply asked why his father was so cruel to the house-elves. But Father never had been very tolerant of what he deemed to be "stupid questions", so he decided that he must have deserved it. Not that Father had ever given much reason to his punishments.

But he had never been punished like this. His every nerve was on fire, muscles occasionally jerking of their own accord and sending further waves of agony through his small body. He knew that is was a spell, and Father had only held him under for less than a minute, but it still hurt worse than any morbid pain his five-year-old mind could comprehend.

Feeling blessed darkness creeping in on the edges of his vision, Draco's last thought was a small, flickering hope for painlessness.

**. . .**

_**Respite**__: n. a delay or cessation for a time, especially of anything depressing or trying; and interval of relief._

Neville sat in the greenhouse at Longbottom Manor, tending to the plants with a careful ease that exceeded the usual attention and motor skills of the average five-year-old. This was the place he could be free—free of the judgments and expectations of his Gran, free of the desperate and bitter tries of her brother to bring out his magic. To them it seemed as though he could never live up to his parents, to even be half the wizard they had been.

The constant comparisons wore down on the boy's self-esteem, breaking him and beating him until there was nothing left. His only sanctuary was the greenhouse, where he learned the art of Herbology. His plants kept him company, the company that he had been denied as long as he could remember. It was something he could do _well_, even if his magic wasn't up to his Gran's standards. He could care for the plants, give them life—he could _do_ something_, _something productive.

But despite the solace he found in his plants, he couldn't help but wish for someone to care…

_**. . .**_

_**Belief**__: n. confidence in the truth or existence of something not immediately susceptible to rigorous proof._

Luna was hiding. Her mother, who was an Unspeakable for the Ministry, was gone again. Another assignment, another unending stretch of time during which Luna was alone with her father. And her father, naturally, was a man no four-year-old would be able to understand.

She absolutely adored her Mummy, when she was there. Daddy, on the other hand, scared her. He was always rambling about creatures that she had never heard of, animals that Mummy hadn't told her about when she was learning them. He would wander around the house all day, building strange things that were gigantic to the little girl, models of his creatures and recreations of lost artifacts. There was one in particular that he would gaze at, dreamy eyed and sigh with a wistful countenance that pained Luna's heart.

"One day," he would breathe, sending shivers down her spine. "One day I will find you. My Luna and I will find you!"

But Luna didn't want to find it—whatever it was. It was large and frightening, with a fierce face and a crooked horn that seemed to have been smashed toward its head…

Usually Mummy would protect her from the creatures of Daddy's imagination, but she wasn't there to help. So Luna hid, hoping that, for at least a time, she could escape the mad ramblings of a man's broken dreams and rest. But all she really wanted was a friend…

_**. . .**_

_**Curiosity**__: n. the desire to learn or know about anything; inquisitiveness._

Hermione sat in her bed, curled up around a large book. She could hear her Mummy and Daddy laughing downstairs. She just couldn't understand why they couldn't be so happy with her. Was it because of the strange things that happened around her? Did that mean that they couldn't love her as much? Because she was weird?

Of course, Mummy and Daddy denied it, but she could tell that they got scared whenever something strange happened. And it always involved _her_. Like the time that book that she couldn't reach at the library floated down to her from the highest shelf.

But how did it happen? She just remembered _really_ wanting the book. Then a sort of tug came inside her chest and it just came down, lightly like a feather. She had tried to explain it to her parents, but it had only ended up scaring them more.

At five years old, she was already extremely intelligent for her age. She could read, and read she did. But nothing she read could explain the strange occurrences that were pushing her parents away from her.

Were answers too much to ask for?

_**. . .**_

_**Attention**__: n. observant care; consideration._

Ginny Weasley had brothers, all older than herself. She adored all of them, as well as her parents, but she couldn't help but feel jealous. They all had things to draw attention to themselves—she didn't.

Bill was an excellent student—a prefect, top of his class. Charlie was great too, and he was the best seeker Gryffindor had had in a long time. Percy wasn't at school yet, but he was really smart, and the twins were funny and kept their parents running around all day long. When dad wasn't at work or pretending to tell off the twins he was teaching her brother Ron to play chess, which he was really good at. But she just got babied—being the youngest and the only girl was hard. She was either bullied, ignored, or kind of looked down on by her brothers. Bill and Charlie were her favourites, but they were always at school or doing summer work.

Most of the time she was left alone with Mummy, the twins, Percy, and Ron. Mummy was always kept busy by the twins' pranks. Sometimes Percy and Ron would play with her, but Percy preferred to sit in his room and read and Ron would get bored playing with a "little girl". Whenever she could be with Mummy, Mummy just wanted her to learn how to cook and sew and other girly stuff. She just didn't enjoy it!

Sometimes she would get to play with Luna, but only when Luna's mummy was there—Luna's daddy was kind of scary sometimes.

Really, all she wanted was for someone to pay a little attention to her!

* * *

><p><strong>AN**: So if Percy graduated in third year and the twins would have graduated in fifth year…that puts them about two years apart. That also puts the twins and Ron about two years apart. So, third year, fifth year, seventh year—two years would put Charlie graduating in first year. Now, we know Charlie wasn't at school when Harry and Ron started, so change that to three years between Charlie and Percy and you get Charlie graduating the year before Harry and Ron start. Harry was born in 1980, and he starts when he's eleven so they start in 1991, so he would have graduated in 1990…put Bill two years before him and he graduates in 198…8? This is just guesswork, anyway. So then you subtract 7 years of schooling from 1988 and he started Hogwarts in 1981, the year Ginny was born. Then it'd be about 1981 minus 11 to get…that he was born in 1970…ish. This is around the time that the Marauders and Lily were going to Hogwarts, which…should fit because we know that Molly and Arthur left Hogwarts before them (the Whomping Willow was planted after Molly left, and it was because of Remus, and the Marauders and Lily had Hagrid as gamekeeper while Molly and Arthur had the one before him) and they married fairly quickly after graduation. So, by this logic (or lack of, I'm not entirely sure which it is right now) when Ginny was four in 1985, Bill would have been in approximately fifth year and Charlie would have been in third, with Percy…is he just starting first year or will he start next year? Um…he graduated in the Golden Trio's third year…so 199…4? 1994 minus 7 equals…1987. So he would be starting the next year? Then the twins would be starting in two years…1989…1996-7=1989! Then Ron in two more years…1989 plus 2 equals…1991! Yes! Then add one for Ginny and you get 1992! Um…I have no idea if that's correct…so you can just ignore it. Sorry for the big block of text…won't happen again. Anyway, please review! No flames!


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer**: I do not own Harry Potter.

**Other**: Yeah, I know the last chapter sucked—it was more of a prologue than the first chapter was! But anyway, here's the next one. The kids all meet each other. I'm a bit concerned about their reactions—they probably aren't like how most five/four year olds interact with other kids, especially in a strange place. And as far as the talking goes, I really don't think that a group of four and five year olds would just leave if they woke up in a strange place, so I had some conversation. So yeah. But it's my birthday tomorrow! So be nice and don't flame. I'm good with concrit though.

* * *

><p>When Harry woke up, it was cold. Even curled under the thick Gryffindor comforter that James had insisted on getting for both of his sons, the young boy was shivering. He sat up, carefully wrapping the blankets around himself as he drew his knees up to his chest. The room was dark, the only light being the moonlight streaming through the open window.<p>

_Open window?_ Harry knew that it had been closed when he fell asleep. The child safety charms his books had told him about prevented windows from opening—they regulated the temperature without having the danger of an open window. But they certainly weren't regulating it now…

And it seemed to be getting colder by the minute. He was completely curled into himself, body shaking like mad in a desperate attempt to conserve heat. He could see his breath rising in front of him in a thick fog, particles dancing upward as he exhaled. He brought his hands to his mouth and breathed on them. The heat was searing in the—what felt like—subzero temperatures of his bedroom, but the blessed warmth disappeared as quickly as it came. He continued the process, only to get lightheaded mere moments later.

There was a light dancing outside the window. Still shivering, he watched it warily. From what he had gathered, the wards around Potter Manor would keep out anything that wanted to hurt any of the occupants. So what was it? And _why_ was it outside his window?

The light was coming closer, drifting lazily through the window and coming ever closer to the boy. It was a small ball of white light. A gentle heat emitted from it, bathing the room in comfort. Harry stared, hypnotized and entranced by it as it came up to him.

_Hello, child._ It didn't speak, and no words were said. It was as though the light were leaving an impression in his mind. It wasn't intrusive, not like the feeling he felt tickling the edges of his mind when Dumbledore was around. It was just _there_.

"Wha-what—"

_Hush,_ it rebuked softly. _Don't worry. I'm here to grant your wish._

"Are you a star?" the small boy asked quietly, curiously. A tinkling laughter brushed against his mind.

_No._

"Then what are you?"

_Magic, _it replied simply. _But it does not matter what I am, youngling. I am here to help you._

"Help—"

_You want a home where you have a family that loves you,_ it told him. _You want to be able to flourish and thrive openly, not hidden away with your books._

"But how can you do that?" he asked in a broken whisper.

_I am already building a family, little one. Just sleep. You will meet them in the morning._

Harry struggled to keep his eyes open, but waves of sleepiness seemed to be pouring over him, coupled with pulses of warmth. The light blurred as his lids began to close and he sunk down into the awaiting arms of Morpheus.

**. . .**

The next time Harry woke up, the first thing that registered was that he wasn't in his bed. Rather, he was propped up against a cold hard surface with sunlight shining in his eyes. It wasn't quiet like it would be if he were in his room, but quite noisy—cars, children, people. The sounds of the city were deafening to his groggy ears.

Harry sat up quickly. He _wasn't_ at home. He was sitting in a concealed alley—most likely in London. But why was he here?

And he wasn't alone. Carefully looking around, he saw one…two…_six_ other children laying against the brick and dumpsters that lined the alley. He saw one of the others—a girl with bushy brown hair—stir.

"Wh-where am I?" she asked, fear prominent in her chocolate brown eyes. She spotted the other five children, and then Harry. "Who are you?"

"I'm Harry," he said quietly. "I'm five," he added, trying to be helpful.

"Me too, but I'm almost six," she told him. "I'm Hermione. Do you know where we are? What about my Mummy and Daddy?"

"I'm not sure about them," he frowned, "but I think we might be in London. I've only been there a couple of times."

"I think you might be right. But what are we doing here?" Harry could hear the panic escalating in her voice.

"I don't know…" he squinted his eyes. "I think…I remember _something_. There was a-a light—I think it said it was magic."

"_What?_" Hermione exclaimed. "Magic? But magic doesn't exist!" Harry frowned again.

"Of course it does," he looked at her. "Are-aren't you a witch?"

"A _witch?_ That's not nice at all!"

"Of course it is! I'm a wizard!"

"Poppycock," she said, using a phrase her Daddy sometimes did when something wasn't logical. "_Magic doesn't exist!"_

"Of course it does!" Harry snapped, though inside he could feel the fear rising. He wasn't used to confrontations—actually, he wasn't used to interacting with people at all. "My Mum's a witch, and my Dad's a wizard. They're training—" he broke off, throat closing. _Liam_. That was all they cared about. They weren't _his_ parents, they were _Liam's_ parents.

"Yes?" Hermione prompted snootily. Harry looked down.

"Nothing." The pair sat in silence for a moment. Then a thought occurred to him. "Do weird things happen around you? Like, stuff you can't explain?" If she was a muggleborn she wouldn't know about accidental magic, would she? Feeling extremely pleased with himself, Harry patiently waited for an answer.

"Yeah," she admitted in a small voice. "I don't think my parents like it very much."

"Are they mug—I mean, are they nonmagic?"

"Yes." Another silence invaded the conversation, quite a bit less tense than the previous. "Harry, I'm hungry. What're we gonna do about food?"

"Food?" came an unfamiliar voice. A brown-eyed olive-skinned boy sat up. "Did you say something about food?"

"Blaise? Is that you?" a blonde haired boy asked blearily. "Where are we?"

"London," Hermione jumped on the chance. "Do you know why?"

"No," said the first boy. "I'm Blaise Zabini," he introduced himself.

"Draco Malfoy," said the second boy.

"Hermione Granger."

"Harry Potter."

"Potter? Like Liam Potter?" Draco asked, sitting up straight. Blaise also became more alert. "Are you his brother or something?"

"Twin," Harry replied, as bitter as a five-year-old could get.

"Wow." Both boys looked at him in awe.

"Who's Liam Potter?" Hermione asked curiously.

"Who's Liam Potter?" Blaise mimicked incredulously. "How do you not know who Liam Potter is? Are you a muggle or something?"

"Muggleborn," Harry intervened. "Does that bother you?" Harry had heard plenty about purebloods—especially the Malfoys—in rants from his father, godfather, and honorary uncle. Blaise quickly shook his head, and Draco bit his lip.

"Father always said—"

"What, that muggles aren't worth anything?" Harry scowled. Draco nodded tentatively.

"But…you don't seem too bad," he said, looking at Hermione. "I don't think it's a problem."

"What's a muggle?" Hermione asked, interest piqued.

"A person who doesn't have magic. A muggleborn is a magic person whose parents are muggles," Blaise replied.

"Like me," Hermione said slowly. The three boys nodded. A whimper came from a corner of the alley.

"Mummy? Daddy? Where am I?" A small voice, belonging to a little redhead whispered. Hermione slowly walked over, not trusting the boys to deal with a little girl.

"We think we're in London," she told the girl kindly. "We don't know where our parents are either. I'm Hermione—what's your name?"

"G-Ginny," the girl said, wiping her eyes. "I'm four."

"I'm five. This is Harry, Blaise, and Draco. They're five too."

"Oh. What about the others?" she looked around at the two unconscious children. "I know her!"

"Really?" Hermione asked, looking at the small blond girl that Ginny had run over to.

"Her name's Luna. She's four like me. Sometimes I go and play at her house, but only when her mummy's there—her daddy's scary."

"So's mine," Draco mumbled. Blaise looked sad.

"My Daddy died," he said. "I miss him."

"I'm sorry, Blaise," Hermione said after a short silence. "What was he like?"

"He was great," the boy smiled. "What about you, Harry?"

"My father doesn't like me very much," he said sadly. "He just likes Liam."

"Liam? Like Liam Potter?" Ginny asked, suddenly very excited. Harry looked down.

"I don't think Liam and Harry get along," Blaise frowned.

"That reminds me, you were gonna tell me who Liam Potter is," Hermione stated.

"He's the Boy-Who-Lived," Draco explained. "He made You-Know-Who go away."

"Who?"

"Voldemort," Harry cut in, ignoring the gasps at his daring. "He destroyed our house on Halloween when me and Liam were babies. People don't like to say his name cuz he killed a lot of people and destroyed stuff. He wasn't nice at all."

"But you said the name," Ginny said in awe. Harry shrugged.

"Our parents said they didn't want us to be afraid of it."

"So why don't you like your brother?" came another quiet voice. The other boy had woken up.

"Hi," Hermione said. "Who are you? I'm Hermione, this is Harry, that's Blaise, that's Draco, and this is Ginny. The other girl is Luna, but she hasn't woken up yet. We're all five, but Ginny and Luna are four."

"I'm Neville," the boy replied softly. "I'm five too. So why don't you like your brother, Harry?" Harry shifted.

"I don't not like him," he said. "We just don't talk much, and Mum and Dad are always paying more attention to him than to me. He gets to learn magic even though I'm better at it without a teacher. They just don't know that." That brought everyone to another silence that wasn't broken until Luna woke up.

"What's going on?" she asked quietly. Hermione explained and gave introductions as Ginny hugged her friend.

"So what are we going to do?" Neville asked. Hermione nodded in agreement with his question.

"I'm still hungry," she said. This brought the others to the realization of their own stomach pains.

"Well then, maybe we should fix that," came a voice from the end of the alley. A very adult male voice. The seven children looked around.

But they were trapped.


End file.
